Lizzie recovered very hastily when she saw what I was doing. She picked up her work, and sewed for a long time so silently and swiftly, that the snip of my scissors and the movement of her arm, as she drew through her needle, were the only sounds, except those which baby made, to be heard in the room. At last she took courage to address me with great humility, asking only if it was “the day after the morn” that we were going to the Park? I nodded my head in return, and Lizzie took courage to go on. The next question was whether the Italian gentleman would be there? “The Italian gentleman! what has he to do with the Miss Mortimers?” cried I. “Eh, it’s no me said it,” cried Lizzie, in alarm; “but yesterday, the day the leddy was here Menico was a’ the gate out there, ance errand wi’ a letter. I said what way did it no go to the post? and he said the post wouldna do. But I wouldna let on the leddy was here.” “He went out with a letter, did he?” said I, in much surprise. “Was that where he was all day? I did not see him about till it was dark.” “There maun be another leddy?” said Lizzie, inquisitively; “and he gaed her some grand name or another. He’s awfu’ funny wi’ his names. He ca’s baby _Signorino_ and _ragazzino_, and I dinna ken a’ what. I looked them up in the dictionary, and they were a’ right meanings enough. But it wasna Miss Mortimer he ca’ed the other leddy. Eh, mem, isn’t Menico getting grand at his English? and I’me aye improving mysel’ too,” said Lizzie, with a little blush and awkward droop of her head. I was not much in the humour for laughing at poor Lizzie’s self-complacency; but I was rather anxious to hear all the gossip I could get for Aunt Milly’s sake. I asked immediately “Were they kind to Menico at the Park?” Lizzie hesitated a little in her answer. “He’s rael clever at speaking,” she said, apologetically,--I suppose finding it rather hard to go back so soon after her laudation--“but when it’s a long story it’s no so easy to ken--no _a’_ he means. But I’m no thinking they were very good to him--for he was awfu’ angry when he came hame. And eh, to see him at his dinner! You would think he hadna seen meat for a week. It’s no a guid account of a house--no meaning ony harm of a great house like the Park,” said Lizzie, reflectively,--“when a man comes awfu’ hungry hame.” Here there was a little pause while Lizzie threaded her needle. I don’t know whether she was indulging in any melancholy anticipations of the hospitality of the Park. However, presently she resumed her story again.